


Gasoline

by AngeliqueNothing



Series: Bang! [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series, Harley Quinn (Comics), Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Alternate Origin Story, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Torture, Bottom Joker (DCU), Brutal Murder, But That's OK He Finally Dies, Cock & Ball Torture, Consenting Adults, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Harleen Quinzel - Freeform, Harley Quinn - Freeform, Healthy Joker/Harleen Quinzel, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Jarley - Freeform, Jarley Freeform, Joker (DCU) Angst, Joker (DCU) Has Issues, Joker (DCU) Played by Jared Leto, M/M, Multi, Murder, NSFW, Non-violent Joker, Nonabusive Joker, Nonabusive Joker and Harley, Origins, POV Alternating, POV Harleen Quinzel, POV Harley Quinn, POV Johnny Frost, POV Joker (DCU), Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Smut, The Joker - Freeform, Top Joker (DCU), Torture, We Don't Like Guy Kopski, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, Wordcount: Over 10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29249364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeliqueNothing/pseuds/AngeliqueNothing
Summary: Have you ever wondered what happened between Doctor Harleen Quinzel and Joker to get them from Arkham Asylum to their chemical wedding? I sure as fuck have. Come, join me in a smut-filled exploration of that. Where promises are made, and murder is had!You’ll get Joker in…golf shorts? No, shit, that can’t be right…can it? Wrong story, must be!This is a continuation of the Bang! series, and while it IS helpful to read the first three smut-filled stories, it's not necessarily needed...though it IS strongly requested!
Relationships: Guy Kopski/Harleen Quinzel, Jarley Relationship, Joker (DCU) & Harley Quinn, Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel
Series: Bang! [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080917
Comments: 56
Kudos: 21





	1. Say What Now?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much, Bec, for your help with this!! 
> 
> I don't own the characters, blah blah blah.

Returning from her jog, Harley stood just inside the door, toeing off her shoes and pulling her earbuds out, exhausted but exhilarated at the good time. She may not be able to get to the gym, what with Guy’s hovering, but she could at least go for quick little jogs. She was desperate for a good workout, but she’d be happy with this for now. It’s a moment before the voices filtering in from the kitchen register and she cocks her head. They weren’t expecting anyone today, were they? It’s Harlequin who perks up first, but the others follow suit when they register the timbre of one of those voices. But…that couldn’t be right, could it? He sounded…different. More like…Jack?

Walking slowly towards the kitchen, she tries to school her face, preparing for just about anything, but she’s _still_ not prepared for the sight in front of her. A brown-haired, grey-eyed, tan “Jack” sat at her kitchen table, talking amiably with Guy, in…golf shorts?

What the fuck was happening? Had she fallen down a manhole and this was the afterlife? But if this was the afterlife, why the _fuck_ was Joker in _golf shorts_? Naked, she’d understand, low-riding jeans, she’d understand…but _golf shorts_?!

She can see his head cock towards her, but as he’s facing away from the doorway, she’s unable to see his face when she walks in. Smiling at Guy, who looks up at her expectantly though continuing his conversation, she walks around the small table and kisses his cheek, as she’s expected to do.

“Harleen, I’d like you to meet Jack. I met him at the club today. He had the biggest bear of a caddy, and I swear, he looked like a damn linebacker!”

Jack shrugs as if he hears this all the time and explains, “Frost isn’t the brightest bulb in the box, but he’s good for a few things. He’s been on the low-end of the totem pole of late, so he got caddy duty this time ‘round.”

Choking on the water she’d just begun drinking, she looks at Jack with wide eyes and tries not to laugh at the thought of poor Johnny lugging around a bag of clubs across a golf course.

“Oh gosh, what did he do to get on the low-end of the pole?” she asks, cocking her head to the side.

“Oh, you know, didn’t listen to directions the first time around, barely wanted to listen to them the second.” Shrugging as if it wasn’t a huge deal that his _right-hand man_ hadn’t wanted to listen to directions, he smiles at Guy as if to say, ‘what’re you gonna do?’

“Can I…can I get you two anything to eat or drink now that I’m here?” she asks in her best impression of a Stepford Wife. She can see Joker holding back his growl at her show of domesticity, and she gives him a sugary sweet look. Still with that sticky sweetness in her voice, she continues, “You two must be _exhausted_ if you were golfing all day. Did you eat at the club?”

Guy gives her a fond look as if this is exactly what he expects while she’s at home during her forced leave from work, and smacking her on the ass when she walks back up to him, tells her that they’re famished. She’s never been the greatest cook, but she at least knows how to put a plate of appetizers together and quickly puts that on the table, not needing to ruin Guy’s good mood while J was here to see it.

Pushing his seat out, Guy indicates that Harley should sit on his lap (as if she’s a prized dog, ugh!), and she readily complies, knowing any hesitation could be bad for her later. Smiling at J, she sits straight in Guy’s lap and plays the game of small talk for a while, getting him to spin her yarns about what he does for work (he’s in acquisitions), if he lives in Gotham (Midway City, actually, though he had a house here as well), if he’s new to the club (why yes, yes he is), and how the golfing on the green was today (magnificent, thank you!). She smiles politely through it all, and after an hour of listening to his rather convincing stories, she politely and quietly reminds Guy that they have dinner tonight and that she’s going to go and get ready.

He lets her stand, and as she walks past them, Jack grabs her hand and places an old-world gentlemanly kiss on her knuckles before telling her that it was lovely meeting her.

When she gets out of the shower, she can still hear Jack’s voice in the kitchen and puts on a robe to go and find out what the everloving fuck he was still doing here. He sees her before Guy does, and she runs a finger down the slit of the robe at her chest, just for him, smiling cheekily. Before Guy can turn around and see her, she clears her throat to get his attention and cocks her head at him to show her lack of understanding.

“Babe! Mr. Napier here knows one of the best clubs in town, so he’s going to go to dinner with us, and then we’ll go to the club after!” Guy tells her excitedly.

“Should I change the reservations? You know how snobbish the restaurant can be with last-minute changes.” She can see Guy’s face darken at the suggestion for a moment before she quickly backtracks, telling him, “I’ll call them now. I don’t see why adding one person would be such a thing! Silly of me.” Nodding her head, she retreats back toward the bedroom before Guy can get any ideas of punishment while they have a guest. Jack stops her by grabbing her wrist before she can retreat to the room, though he quickly drops it when he realizes what he’s done.

“Call your restaurant and cancel,” he says, looking at Guy. “I’ll take you to the one I just bought! They’re supposed to be amazing, and it’ll be fun to go with people other than businessmen. And if they’re snobby, well, we’ll see how they feel after realizing who they’re dealing with,” he finishes, giving them a crooked, almost Joker-like grin.

She gives him a small smile before rushing through her prep routine and is out in record time. Both men are just pulling on their suit jackets ( _where_ had J gotten a damn suit with no notice? Did he just randomly have poor Johnny carry them around in the car?!) when she walks out in a slinky purple number, a black shawl around her shoulders, and black stilettos she picked because she knew he’d like them. She’s left her hair down in riotous curls, even knowing that Guy won’t love them, and tucked them over one shoulder. J gives her a once over with a wolfish grin when Guy’s back is turned, and she can feel the heat radiate up from her chest.

When they walk out and she sees Johnny at the front of the car in a ridiculous chauffer’s cap, she gives him a sly wink and smile before climbing into the back after Guy, making sure to bend over just a smidge more than strictly necessary, letting Joker get a good long look at her ass. She can feel the tips of his fingers slide against her calves as she climbs in and she has to suppress the sigh she can feel rise in her throat.

She sits between the two men at a tiny booth throughout dinner and makes sure that when she crosses her legs, she crosses them towards J and slides the tip of her stiletto up his leg, digging in lightly. She can feel Guy’s hand reaching towards J, even though it’s technically on her shoulder, and she looks over at her philandering fiancé in surprise. She probably shouldn’t be surprised, Joker as Jack is gorgeous (hell, Joker as _Joker_ was better, but she’d take Jack in a pinch), but _really_? J lets the touching go on, even going so far as to stroke Harley’s neck lightly with his fingers, letting them trail down and across to Guy’s arm. _What_ was J playing at?

Even knowing he’s playing a game and knowing there’s a punchline at the end of this, she feels her body get hot and bothered at him being so close, the feel of his fingers stroking up and down her neck and across her back. She barely tastes the food in front of her and seems to gulp more wine down than strictly necessary while J watches her and Guy watches J.

By the time they get to the club, she’s already a bit wobbly on her heels and has a hand wrapped through each man’s arm to keep herself steady. Though Guy has kept his full suit on, J has taken off his jacket and opened the neck of his shirt several buttons, showing that he’s even covered those glorious tattoos. They walk into the club with little more than a look from J to the doorman, and a drink is almost instantly put into her hand.

Looking down at the drink and looking at J, looking back down at the drink and looking at Guy, she quickly pounds the drink back in one long swallow and walks away from them towards the dance floor. It may not be the straightest line she’s ever walked, but it’s close enough, and when she looks over her shoulder, she sees the two men standing at the edge, watching her like hawks. The look J is giving her sends shivers down her spine and she adds a bit of extra sway as she enters the press of bodies on the dance floor.

She can feel the beat traveling up her legs to her thighs, and she swears she can feel her blood pulse with the sound of the music. Especially when a pair of hands that she knows well, even if they _are_ falsely tanned, grab her by the waist and pull her against his hips. It’s like a dream, knowing that Guy is off to the side, watching the two of them move together. She knows she should care about the repercussions of tonight and how much trouble she’ll be in later, but the alcohol coursing through her system and the hips grinding against hers have her cares slipping away as soon as they’re formed. Turning in his arms so that she can face him, she runs her hands through hair that she wishes was its normal vibrant green and continues to move against him. As his teeth graze her ear, she can feel a second pair of hands on her hips, and she knows those hands just as well. She feels his hips press into her ass, pushing her closer to J and they move to a single beat, their bodies in tandem. Guy’s hands reach around to the front of her waist, slipping between her and J’s bodies, feeling the arousal that’s coursing through the both of them.

Slipping a hand in her hair, J tilts Harley’s head to the side so that he can lick a line up her neck before hollering to be heard over the music, “Would you like me to fuck your future wife while you watch?” She can feel Guy shudder behind her and a little moan escapes him at the question while J nibbles at her earlobe, more than likely staring at Guy the whole time. _Now_ she gets the punchline…dominance. To show Guy who Harleen really belonged to without ever having to say a word, and showing her fiancé that though he thought he was in control, it was really Joker pulling the strings.

She can feel Guy’s hands travel southward from her hips, making sure to stroke against the front of J’s pants until he slips one hand under her dress, pressing his fingers against her already wet center.

Leaning into the other ear so that he can whisper in her ear, he makes sure that his voice is barely heard over the sound of the music, for her ears alone, when he asks, “Do you like the idea of that, you little slut?” To emphasize the point, he presses the pads of his fingers into her center a bit harder, pushing fabric as well as the tips of his fingers into her. She can feel the tip of J’s tongue lick the outside shell of her ear as two of Guy’s fingers slip past her underwear and delve fully into her center, and she moans, not knowing at which sensation she’s moaning.

Oh god, it was too much. The two of them together, and J here in front of her, it was just too much for her brain to handle while this much alcohol was in her system. Knowing Guy is still expecting a response, she nods her head and makes a plaintive mewl in the back of her throat as his fingers slip in and out of her.

“There are private rooms upstairs,” J yells towards Guy before he dips down to plant an open-mouthed kiss at the junction of Harley’s neck and shoulder, gently pulling at the skin with his teeth. Slipping his fingers from inside her, Guy pulls her skirt down and motions for J to show the way. Grabbing her by the hand and entwining their fingers, J leads her towards a set of stairs behind a golden rope near the DJ stage, correctly assuming that Guy will follow in their wake.

As soon as he has her through the door of the private room, she’s practically thrown against a wall, J’s hands digging into her hair as his mouth attacks hers as if he’s dying and she’s the cure. Her hands are around his neck and digging into his hair with relish as she kisses him back with the same deep need. It’s as if Guy doesn’t exist in that first moment, and it’s only J’s growl into her mouth that alerts her to the fact that Guy is touching J.

Continuing to stroke her tongue against his, she begins to unbutton his shirt when she feels Guy’s hands reach around J to start working at the buttons of his pants, slipping a hand in once the first button is popped. She finishes unbuttoning the shirt, sliding it off and running her hands down his chest, leaning in to kiss where she knows the laughter is. She can feel Guy’s hand move up and down, fisting J, and the thought of someone else touching him has a low growl rumbling through her body.

He’d _left_ her; she had no right to feel proprietary towards him.

As if sensing her jealously rising, Joker leans in to whisper, “Doesn’t feel good, knowing someone else is touching me, does it?”

Shaking her head, she leans back against the wall to stare at him for a moment. So, it wasn’t just about dominance over Guy, then. It was also about teaching _her_ something about jealously. But was it also a way to let her inside his head without all of the official psychoanalyzing bullshit, as well?

Curling her lips up in a challenging smile, she slips from between him and the wall, and as she walks to the middle of the small room, she slowly unzips her dress and lets it slip down her body. Now that she can see more of the room, it’s clear that it’s an office and not just a “private room,” though she supposes it could count as that if squinted at just right. Stepping out and over the pooled fabric, she walks to the wall of glass that allows her to see into the club’s main floor and turns to Jack, asking if it’s one-way. Thankfully, he answers in the affirmative, and she presses her back up against it for a moment, reminding J of the last time they were in an office together, before pushing away and walking over to the bar. She can see J watching her over his shoulder, even as his hands rest on the wall and Guy still pumps his arm up and down.

Removing Guy’s hand from him, J stalks towards Harley, toeing off his shoes and letting his pants and boxers drop as he walks towards her. He may have left her high and dry during his breakout, but she’d missed this man. This gloriously sexy god of a man. As soon as he gets to her, he drops down to his knees and, staring up at her, places his hands so that they hover just above her hips, asking, “Can I touch you?”

She smiles at the reminder of their first time together and runs her hand through his hair, nodding. “Hips and thigh area only for now?” she reminds him with a small smirk.

He gives her a toothy grin before he kisses the apex of her thighs, nosing the line of her panties. Looking up at her, he slowly slides the thin fabric down her hips, letting his knuckles graze her skin the whole way.

“Harl, doll, spread your legs a bit for me, would ya?” he growls into the skin of her hips, letting a bit of his Joker show through.

She complies and he rewards her with a long lick from the bottom of her folds to her clit, gently sucking on the little bundle of nerves. Her body shudders, and the hand in his hair fists, while her other hand reaches down to use his shoulder to steady herself. As he inserts two fingers inside of her tight opening, she feels Guy’s hand smack her ass hard enough that her hips jut forward slightly. She can feel Guy kneading her ass, pulling the cheeks apart, and rocking his hips into her as J continues to lick and suck her clit.

She can feel Guy’s finger probing between her cheeks and isn’t surprised when she feels one of his long fingers insert itself into her tight hole. He gives her body a moment to adjust before pulling slightly out and inserting a second finger, all while J continues to fuck her cunt with his fingers and mouth. She throws her head back against Guy’s chest as her body rocks back and forth at the motions of the two men fucking her with their fingers, moans being torn from her throat. It’s not long before her heightened senses are screaming at her, and it’s as if J can feel her body getting close to completion because he stops and pulls back from her. A growl escapes her throat at the separation and he smiles up at her with a wicked glint in his eyes.

“Not yet, Harl, not yet. We’re not even at the good part yet,” is said with what almost sounds like glee.

She leans more heavily against Guy, letting him continue to use his fingers to fuck her ass, almost in defiance of J stopping. She’s rocking her hips, making sure to thrust them into Guy’s hands when Guy snakes his other hand around and begins to rub at her clit with his fingers. Standing, J leans in to kiss Harley, forcing his tongue into her mouth almost violently as she grips his hard length and begins to stroke in time to Guy’s finger movements.

She loves the feel of Joker losing control under her ministrations. She can feel his hips thrusting towards her hand as he times his tongue movements to her strokes. She can almost feel the war his mind and body are having, and she relishes in creating the chaos. Batting Guy’s hand on her clit aside, J takes back over. If she’s going to come, she knows he wants it to be at his finger’s behest. Almost as soon as his fingers have thrust back into her and his thumb is playing with the little nub, her body bows and she shouts out her pleasure, her hand tightening around J’s cock. The world goes hazy for a moment before her body slumps between the two of them, already exhausted.

She feels J lift her by her ass and she obediently wraps her legs around him, head on his shoulder, trying to relearn how to breathe. She can feel him walking and hears the clomp of Guy’s shoes following them.

“You, sit there,” she hears J growl and slits her eyes open to see Guy obediently sitting on one side of the couch, watching them. As J sits down on the opposite side of the couch, she can feel him reposition himself so that as soon as his ass fully hits the seat, he slides directly into her. Her body arches at the sensation of him filling her up, and she slides her fingers into his hair before beginning to move her hips. Almost immediately though, he stills her movements, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough that she knows she’ll have bruises in the morning, and she relishes the thought. She wants friction, though, and she fists her hand in his hair to show her displeasure at the pause in movement.

He looks at her with that gleeful smile before swooping in and latching his mouth to hers, finally beginning to move his hips. She can feel the beat of the music from downstairs throbbing up to them, and he begins to time his movements to the vibrations. He thrusts into her with each bump of the music, and it’s almost violent, this coupling. She holds on for everything she’s worth and clenches around his pumping hips. She’s quickly losing her mind at the rhythm of his movements, and as his hands move from her hips to roam across her skin, his fingertips barely skimming her body, she shudders.

“I’m going to enjoy fucking your future wife so hard she comes screaming my name. Do you want to see me fill her up when I finish?” He growls, looking at Guy while nibbling on Harley’s shoulder. She throws her head back and moans at the thought of being able to say J’s name as she comes in front of Guy, even if she won’t be able to say his proper name. She can hear Guy make a noise of agreement in between little noises of pleasure as he pumps his cock up and down in his hand, timing it to J’s movements. He was never one to last long, and she can see him nearing completion as she turns her attention back to the man in front of her.

“Harley-Darley, come with me, baby,” is growled as he looks at her with his intense grey eyes. She can practically see the storms roiling in them as his hips pick up movement. It’s almost as if the DJ can feel their need to climb higher as the beat changes and becomes darker, more intense. He pumps his hips to the beat, attacking her mouth and sliding his tongue against hers to the same rhythm. Sliding one hand into her hair, he clings with the other to her hip as if it’s his anchor, keeping him here on earth.

“Come to the stars with me, J,” she tells him, knowing he needs to hear her say it.

Almost instantaneously, as if she’d pushed a button, she feels his thrusts lose their rhythm, slamming into her erratically, and his eyes pop open to stare at her.

“Harl,” is whispered, almost a plea, as he shatters around her. Watching this glorious man, this supposed villain, this king of kings, shatter with her name on his lips sends her exploding along with him. She screams ‘Jack’ over and over, almost a petition to the heavens, though for what she has no idea. His teeth attach to her neck and he bites down hard enough she can feel him breaking the skin, and it only sends her higher, her hips bucking against his thrusting. Finally drained, she slumps against him and can feel him kissing her neck, using his tongue to soothe the sting that his teeth have left.

“Harl, you are absolutely glorious. Perfection personified,” he whispers into her skin, trailing his fingers down her sternum and around to her back, kneading circles into the flesh of her lower back.

She can feel the couch dip as Guy moves closer to them, clearly feeling the need to ruin this perfect moment. He runs a hand down each of their arms, kissing first Harley’s shoulder and then Jack’s, though he seems to linger on J’s skin, using his tongue to lave the little crescent marks Harley’s nails must have left. She doesn’t want him _touching_ Joker, let alone _licking_ him! She tries not to growl her annoyance but must have made some noise in her chest because J looks at her with an amused glint in his eyes. His amusement turns devious as, looking her in the eye first, he turns his head and begins kissing Guy, moving one of his hands so that it cradles Guy’s neck. She sees J open his mouth further, pushing his tongue into Guy’s mouth and her hips move without her permission at the sight. She leans in and licks up J’s neck, feeling his body shudder into hers as she begins to nibble up his heart vein. He may enjoy fucking with her and trying to teach her a lesson, but this vein, the one that went from his heart to his brain, was _hers_.

_He_ was hers, even if he didn’t realize it fully yet.


	2. No Peaking Now

For the next week, he continued putting in time at “the club,” cozying up to Guy in the guise of “Jack,” though he didn’t go home with him again. He’d needed to show Harley what it felt like to know someone else was touching him, and while he’d enjoyed the bit of omnivorous fun, it had reaffirmed that he didn’t like anyone touching _her_ either. He may know intellectually that Guy was likely continuing to fuck her at home, possibly reasserting his dominance after his lack thereof while they were all together, but he didn’t need to _see_ it. He’d kept putting off going home with Guy under the guise of “heavy work” after their mornings together. Still, he had continued with the lingering touches or the longer than necessary looks, making sure to keep Guy’s attention hooked on him.

He’d even let the insatiable man give him a quick blowjob one day in a locked bathroom and had immensely enjoyed ramming his cock down the other man’s throat like he knew Guy had done to Harley. Guy had actually not been bad with his tongue, though he’d still been a far step below Harley’s level. Fuck, as soon as he’d imagined how angry she’d be at his letting Guy touch him, he’d cum all too soon.

On the fifth day of his time as “Jack,” he was able to convince Guy to come home with him after their lunch at the ridiculous club. It hadn’t been overly hard; a promise of a good fucking had practically had the man on his knees again. It had also been ridiculously easy to get the idiot to use a blindfold under the guise of “heightening the experience.” Really, he knew that he looked trust-worthy with this face, but he was fairly certain even _Harleen_ wouldn’t have trusted him this thoroughly this fast.

By the time Johnny had driven them to the warehouse, Guy was practically frantic with need and if the tent in his pants was any indication, already hard as a rock. Joker stroked Guy’s erection through his pants briefly, reminding him what was to come once they were inside, and told the idiot, “No peaking now, hmmm?” Really, that nod was a little _too_ enthusiastic.

Leading Guy through the warehouse with a hand on his shoulder, they took the steps down to the sound-proofed basement slowly. Didn’t want Guy to trip and break his neck prematurely, now did we? Once they were in the correct room, Joker stroked a hand down Guy’s back and whispered in his ear, “Sit down, handsome and let me take care of you.”

As soon as the dope was sitting, Joker leaned down, ran his hands up the man’s thighs seductively, not _quite_ touching the piece of anatomy he knew Guy needed to be touched, and said quietly, “I’m going to tie you down, we wouldn’t want you hurting yourself, now would we?” He had Johnny quickly tie the man’s hands securely to the chair while he tied the legs down, making the knots just a _bit_ too tight. That was when Guy began to struggle, not liking this arrangement as much as he’d thought he would.

Making “shushing” noises, he ran his hands up and down Guy’s thighs again, this time letting his hands lightly graze the still-tented erection. “It’s okay, doll, shhh, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

As he stroked Guy, Johnny quickly grabbed the chloroform and applied the rag to Guy’s mouth and nose until the man went limp in the chair.

As soon as he was out, Joker walked over to the industrial-sized sink and rinsed his hands off, not wanting the feel of Guy on his hands. Especially not if he was going to be seeing a pert little blonde later that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the next chapter gets a smidge violent (like, serrated saw kinda smidge), so if you’re squeamish, please skip. I’ll recap at the beginning of the chapter after!


	3. Retribution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for everyone who wanted Guy dead as badly as I did. But it's totally also for Bec as she gave me some EPIC ideas!!

“Ladies, I need Harlequin for the night,” he told Harleen, almost as soon as he’d stepped through the door and she’d closed it behind him.

He can see Harlequin peeking through their eyes, looking mildly interested, but then it’s Harleen who takes control. “I…I don’t…I don’t think that’s a good idea. She’s not…fuck, J…she’s _dangerous_ ,” she practically finishes with a whisper.

“Baby, that’s why I need her. I need her particular set of skills for the evening. There won’t be any harm towards her, and I think tonight will suit her perfectly!” he tells her, rubbing his hands together and smiling maniacally at her.

“Promise? No harm?” she asks, biting her lip.

He can tell that they’re conversing in her head, so he stays quiet, letting them duke it out. He rocks back on his heels, needing her to agree so that he can go and take “Jack” off. He’s _tired_ of looking like this and had only stayed in this guise as long as he had to play this joke out. Really, seeing Guy’s face when he saw who Jack _really_ was would be worth the wait for this punchline.

Sidling up behind her, he pulls her back against his front. Running his hands across her hips, he whispers against her ear, “Come play with us. I promise you won’t regret it. I even think all three of you will… _enjoy_ this.”

He’s not positive all three of them will enjoy the experience he’s giving to Harlequin, but he’s…eighty-five percent-ish sure that everyone will have fun? Well, everyone except Guy, he supposes, but that’s par for the course (he had been spending _way_ too much time on a golf course, tee- _rific_ ).

xxxxxx

As he takes her to the warehouse in a nondescript car, Harlequin rests her head against the window, not giving two fucks about the route or where they may be going. If he’d come to kill her, she was fairly certain he’d have just done it. She hadn’t warranted torture as far as she was aware, so her death would have likely been quick. And really, he could have killed them at Arkham but had chosen not to for whatever reason.

It would also be easier to lie after all of this if she could intersperse it with truths – no officer, I have _no_ idea where Mister Joker’s hideout happens to be; he _kidnapped_ me, after all! Really, looking like a hapless silly girl had its uses on occasion.

Once they reach the warehouse, a very unremarkable building that looks just like every other one on this block, if not a bit more dilapidated, they go through a hidden door and up to a lavishly appointed suite. Harlequin cocks her head at the sight, not sure why Joker has gone through all of this trouble to bring her _here_ when he knows they’d likely all be happy fucking him up against a wall or, hell, even in a damn alley.

He disappears for a moment before returning and, throwing a silky robe at her, tells her he needs her down to the knickers and in the robe by the time he gets out of the shower.

Intrigued, she follows the directions, leaving her knickers and heels on under the robe. Almost as soon as she’s disrobed, he rejoins her in the main room in nothing but a pair of old jeans splattered with little bits of brown, back to his Joker glory with nary a sign of “Jack,” his hair wet and slicked back from his face. She’d love to nibble her way across each of the tattoos at some point, making sure to leave various and numerous marks in a subtle display of ownership, but she had a feeling from the way he was acting and that he’d called _her_ up, that they wouldn’t be having that kind of fun quite yet.

She allows him to lead her down to what looks like a fully renovated basement and through a thick steel door, which he closes once they’re both through. She stares at that thick metal door for a moment, the clang giving her pause and making her wonder if she’d misjudged the situation. She wonders for a moment if there _would_ be harm tonight, but she quickly shakes the feeling off, trusting her gut. It hadn’t steered them wrong yet. She’d never gotten the _death_ sense from Joker like she had once upon a time with dear old dead daddy.

When she turns towards Joker, she smiles viciously at the sight before her. Really…he’d brought them a present!

“Is he…for us?” she asks, cocking her head to the side and making sure all of them could see the beautiful sight in front of them. A trussed-up Guy, blindfolded and bound to a chair, ready for them.

“Harleen? Is that you, baby?! Oh God, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s happening! I came down here with Jack and then…and then someone jumped us! Baby, I’m so sorry they got you too!”

Ignoring Guy’s sniveling, she continues to stare at Joker, awaiting his response. “Someone needed to kill the motherfucker, especially after the temple bruise, so I figured,” he pauses and shrugs, “why not let you have the fun?” At this, he points to a long table off to the side that she hadn’t noticed before.

She practically squeals, hopping over to the table to get a closer look. It’s a thing of beauty, that table. It had just about everything a girl could want or need to torture someone and take their time. From knives, to a bat, to jumper cables already hooked to a battery, to a hammer, to smelling salts, to tourniquets, to plastic gloves, and oh so much more. She could practically faint at the beauty of that table. And really, the _assortment_ of knives was almost baffling.

Seeing her run her fingers lightly over the knives, Joker tries to look nonchalant and, failing miserably, shrugs again before trying to explain. “Didn’t know what you’d actually prefer. You took the switchblade, but that doesn’t mean it’s _preferred_. I would so humbly suggest that you take the blindfold off first, though; it’s more fun when they can see what’s coming.”

She can’t help but run back over to Joker, jump up, and straddle his waist, giving an excited yip when he falls back a few steps at the unexpected movement. Really, he was the _best_! Giving him a quick peck on the lips, she tells him so before querying, “Are you going to be helping tonight?”

Readjusting his hold on her ass so that she sits more comfortably on his hips, he gives her a vicious grin and tells her that he’ll only be helping if she does so request it. If she didn’t, he’d be in the chair off to the side, enjoying the voyeuristic torture. Giving him one more peck on the lips, she unhooks her legs to go down, but Joker pulls her body flush against his and deepens the kiss. She gives him what he needs, running her hands through his hair and stroking his tongue with her own, knowing that he needs confirmation that isn’t in the form of excited noises that he’d done the right thing by them. After a moment, he lets her down, and she strokes his face before turning and walking back towards Guy. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Joker sitting in the chair he’d indicated, crossing his legs as if he could be here all night and not worry about a thing.

She throws the robe off to the side, trying to hit J but falling far short (really, silky fabric does _not_ throw well!), and straddles Guy’s lap before taking his blindfold off. He stares at her, confused, and she knows she must be quite the sight. Nothing but barely-there lingerie, heels, and hair up in a high bun on the crown of her head. She runs her fingers down Guy’s face, almost lovingly, before leaning in and kissing him. He leans into the touch, clearly still not fully understanding that she would be the one to torture and kill him tonight. As she sits back, she can see the moment it clicks in his eyes. That moment where he realizes that it was no longer Harleen, who was easily bullied by this man, that was in control. Oh no, it was someone far worse, someone he’d only ever glimpsed once or twice when he’d gotten too ferocious. But he’d always made sure she was tied down when she got to that point, hadn’t he? Now though…now _he_ was the one tied down, and she bares her teeth at him before getting off of his lap.

“Harleen. Don’t do this, baby. There’s no going back if you do this,” he snivels. When he realizes she’s not going to respond and instead runs her fingers over the table’s edges, he tries a different tact. “You whoreish slut! Get me the fuck out of here right now, and your punishment won’t be nearly as severe!”

“Is that really a way to speak to a lady,” is growled from the corner, and a smile curls the edges of her lips. She chuckles when she sees Guy’s eyes go round as saucers at the sight of _The Joker_ sitting in the corner, and she outright cackles when she sees the realization hit him, who _Jack_ was the entire time. Oh, what _fun_!

Clapping her hands, she grabs a pair of tongs and holds them up for inspection, turning around to grin at Joker to show him her first choice. “Would you be a love and help me hold his head still and open his mouth? Rude people don’t deserve a tongue,” she says, clicking the tongs together a few times for emphasis.

“Anything you need, doll,” he says, giving her one of his widest grins. Grabbing a handful of Guy’s hair, he pulls the other man’s head back and growls in Guy’s ear, “would you like to try _apologizing_? Might help you to keep the tongue!”

As soon as Guy begins to babble and blubber, Harlequin reaches in and grabs Guy’s tongue with the forceps and pulls the tongue taut, just past his teeth. Grabbing a knife at random from the table behind her, she takes her time sawing through the muscle of the tongue, enjoying the sound of Guy’s screaming and crying. Stepping back from the blubbering man, she finally realizes why J had her remove the majority of her clothing as she runs a finger along the blood spatters on her chest.

She looks up at him with a beatific smile on her face and gleefully shows off her bloody hands like a small child showing off the fruits of their labor.

Joker gives her a huge grin as he lets go of Guy’s head, exclaiming, “Daddy’s little monster, all right!”

Harlequin turns around and looks at the table, giving the others a moment to compose themselves. She can hear Harleen in the background crying (though no one is sure if it’s from grief or relief), and Harley is practically jumping up and down at the excitement. Picking up a butterfly knife, she flicks it open and closed a few times before putting it back on the table.

Walking back to Guy, she opens his shirt and pulls his pants down, lightly running her hands up the appendage that had caused them so much hurt over the years. He may be a sobbing mess, but his body still responds favorably, coming to half-mast at her light stroke. Smiling a gentle smile at him, she lightly pushes his hair back, letting him see the dead soul he helped create before lightly stroking him again.

“Now, the more you struggle for the next part, the worse it’ll be for you,” she tells him, repeating words he’d said to them oh so many times. She grabs a large serrated saw from the table and, kneeling down between his spread legs, grabs hold of his semi-erect penis, pulling it taut, and begins to saw. The gurgled screams and the blood spattering over her face and chest are absolutely glorious. She can feel blood being sprayed into her hair from the wound in his mouth as he screams, and it causes her to go a bit slower, drawing out the pain and terror that her fiancé feels. For every scream, she lets a past memory with this particular appendage go, letting it drift on the wind. When it is finally separated, she takes the bloody mass of tissue and shoves it into Guy’s mouth, causing him to choke and gag. Really, you’d think from the way he was acting, he’d never had a dick shoved in his mouth before!

She can hear Joker humming a song in the background, and it takes her a minute to place the song. How appropriate! Smiling at him, she chirps, “Quite right that the female of the species is more deadlier than the male!”

She takes the next several hours and goes slowly, not wanting the effects of shock to kill Guy and not wanting to have to wake him up with the smelling salts. She wants him conscious for everything she does. Really, what would be the point of torturing the man in front of her be, if he weren’t awake to feel every cut and slice? She asks for Joker’s opinion a few times, and he readily gives it while sitting in the chair off to the side. He doesn’t offer to help, and she absolutely adores that he understands her need to do this mostly without him.

By the time she picks up the bat, Guy looks just about ready to pass out, and she’s covered in blood and gore. She looks at Joker for help, having never held a bat before, and he stands and stalks towards her. Positioning her so that her feet are slightly apart, he moves her arms up and has her do a few experimental swings, eliciting little sounds of distress from Guy. Once she feels like she has it, she steps up to the batter’s plate, or where it would be in any case, and swings for Guy’s head. She barely hits him the first time, but the second, third and fifth swings all make contact until she hears bone pop, almost like the sound of a watermelon being dropped to the floor.

Harlequin uses a foot to tip him onto his back, enjoying the sound of his head cracking against the floor, before switching the bat for a hammer. Straddling his upper body, she begins to use the hammer to smash his head in. The feel of gore splattering her face and hair has her laughing maniacally, almost hysterically, and by the time his head is barely more than mush, she can feel racking sobs being torn from her chest.

She feels hands lightly descend on her shoulders, and she pops up like a jack in the box, wrapping her arms around Joker’s waist and burying her head in his chest as she lets the sobs out. She can’t seem to stop, and she has no idea where the crying is coming from but knows better than to try to hold it in. Maybe it’s the thought that they’re free? That there will be no more pain?

J rubs at her shoulders and neck, waiting patiently through the ridiculous crying jag. Really, she didn’t think anyone would believe her if she told them that _Joker_ was the one that was holding her. Hell, _she_ barely believed it! This was the same man that terrorized Gotham on a regular basis?

Finally, she looks up at him and can practically feel the clean streaks that the tears have left through the gore on her face. He gives her a ridiculously huge toothy grin (who opens their _mouth_ that big!?) before swooping down to clamp his mouth against hers.

“Seeing you like this…it’s a vision! I _knew_ your particular skill set would be _perfect_ for tonight!” he growls against her mouth as his hands slip through the blood on her body, spreading it out further onto her back and ass. “You are more gorgeous than a goddess in this moment. Warpaint bright and red, streaked in the bits of bone and body of your enemies,” he practically purrs as he runs his hands through her hair, streaking it further with blood and mixing the gore into the blonde locks. In all fairness, she supposes she’s mixing a decent bit of blood and gore into his hair as well when she runs her hands through it.

Lifting her by her ass so that she has to lock her knees on either side of his hips, he walks her back over to the chair he’d been sitting in previously and slowly sits down, kissing her the whole way there. She has no interest in going slow with him tonight, and as soon as they’re seated, she lifts her hips incrementally, pops the buttons of the jeans, pushes them open as far as she can before sliding her own gore-soaked underwear off to the side and ramming herself down on his already erect cock. The feel of him filling _her_ , Harlequin, up, is amazing. Yes, she’d experienced this before with him, but it was different when she was at the helm. She leans down and nips at his lower lip before really beginning to move her hips. Joker’s hands travel from her ribs to her back, lightly scraping his nails along her skin. Finally, his hands reach her ass and he uses them as a hand-hold while his hips begin pumping up into hers violently. She moans at the pace, loving the ferocity of it, the desperation.

She kisses along his neck and shoulders, her hands in his hair tightening as she gets closer and closer to the precipice. His pace begins to stutter, and she growls, “Come for me, Joker.”

Almost as if on cue, he throws his head back, moaning her name as he comes undone under her. She follows him into the stars, biting into the bare right-side of his neck, her hands tightening in his hair. Resting her head on his shoulder, she tries to remember what breathing is, and she’s not sure how the others survived this experience with him. The pleasure he’s able to throw her way is almost painful, and how is he able to almost literally take her breath away just by fucking her? It’s not _right_.

“As much fun as it was fucking you while you’re covered in gore, I believe a shower and a change of unmentionables might be in order?” he whispers against her hair. She nods sleepily, not really sure she has any intention of moving for the next year.

But move she does (with only a _bit_ of mumbling and griping). And as they ascend the stairs, she notices more about the cavernous main room of the warehouse this time around. She can see a small card table off to one side, a group of men huddled around it, playing cards. They look up when the door bangs open but as soon as they see Joker and her, covered in bits of blood and who knew what covering both of them, they quickly look down and resume their card game. The only one she recognizes is Johnny and he’s off to one side reading a book. He’s the only one that never raises his head from his book. She knows he’s aware of their presence, but he shows no sign of interest.

Is it because they’re afraid of what Joker might do if they were caught looking, or is it because she’s covered in more of the blood than J is and looks rather demonic? She giggles and skips up the steps behind J, happy at the terrified looks of the henchmen but also desperately wanting a shower. The blood was beginning to get sticky and did _not_ feel good any longer. She did have to admit, though, seeing Joker covered in blood was an amazing sight. They all thought so, and it was a mildly rare occurrence when they all agreed so thoroughly on something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that Joker is humming, if you’re interested, is “The Female of the Species” by an amazing band called Space: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F1NBpVKWh_c


	4. An Automatic Ten Steps Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to recap for those that skipped the last chapter, Joker requested Harlequin’s presence and took her to torture Guy. She did it beautifully, and then she killed him because someone needed to kill that motherfucking douchcanoe. There was bloody sex because, really, two insane personalities SHOULD paint each other in the blood of the fallen as if it’s warpaint. 
> 
> Don’t judge.

Simply watching the water fall across her body, her hands kneading the loofa with soap, was a sight to behold. It was as if she was washing away the stink of her former fiancé with every swipe of soap across her body. When she finally reaches her back, she turns and stares at him with a quiet intensity he hadn’t been expecting after the skipping up the stairs that she’d done only minutes ago, and he readily complies to the silent demand in those blue eyes.

This shower, this scrubbing, is like a baptism, washing away the old and helping to build anew, and he’s honored that she needs his help. With each little circle he makes with the loofa, though, he can’t help but wonder why she’s having him help her. He knows he’s skilled at the murder bits, but her soul is oh so fragile at the moment, and he’s not sure how to deal with that. _Feelings_. They just…they weren’t for him. But this wraith of a woman was bringing them out, and he was finding that he _liked_ them with her.

Needing to get out of his head, and knowing that she may very well need the same, he moves his hands to her front, using the loofa to rub slow circles across her stomach, getting lower and lower with each rotation. He puts his chin on her shoulder so that he can watch the slow progression of his hands as her hips begin to rock back into him. Finally letting the loofa fall from his fingers, he spreads the soap suds with both hands across her hips, down her lower abdomen, and finally down to her folds, though not rubbing quite where he knows she needs it.

“Normal is a setting on the washer, Harl,” he tells her as he finally lets his hands stroke the outside of her folds, still not delving quite where she needs them. “We will never be ‘normal,’ even if we try,” he says as he lets one hand finally stroke her slit, his fingers just barely delving into her with each stroke across her opening. As he inserts two fingers inside of her, he asks, “So why try to force ourselves into their boxes?” Her hips are rocking against him, trying desperately to get him to move faster, to get his thumb to stroke where she needs it, but he’s not done. When he finally strokes her clit with his thumb, he questions, “So why should we force ourselves to conform to what we think others may want of us? Why be _normal_?”

She makes a sound low in her throat as she reaches a hand between them, using the bubbles as a lubricant to stroke up and down his already painfully erect cock. How she has him this hard, this quickly, is baffling. He’s not in his early twenties anymore, and he was fairly certain his body was _not_ capable of recovering this quickly, but he’s finding that this woman can make him do just about anything with very little effort on her part.

“Inside of me, J. I need you inside of me,” she moans, leaning her head back against his shoulder, tightening her hand as she continues to stroke up and down his shaft.

Reaching one hand up to tweak Harlequin’s nipple, he uses the fingers already stroking her to violently spear into her, growling into her ear, “I’m already inside of you, doll. Tell me what you really need.”

“Oh god…you. I need this,” she pants, taking a strong grip on his cock and running her hand up and down, “I need this inside of me, filling me up.”

Tweaking her nipple one last time for good measure, he moves his hand to her spine and slowly bends her down so that her ass is practically up in the air and ready for him, her hands going to the shower wall for support. Grabbing a hip with one hand to steady himself, he positions himself with the other and lets just the head of his cock rub against her opening, letting it just barely enter her wet opening a few times before suddenly ramming all the way into her. Grabbing both hips with crushing force, he sets a punishing rhythm. Pumping into her hard, he can feel himself hitting her cervix with each thrust and sees her grab one of the shower nozzles in a death grip.

Reaching one hand around to her front, he places a flat hand onto her sternum and pulls her up so that her back is flush against his chest as he continues to pump into her. She reaches a hand back to grip his neck, and when she turns her head, he obliges and leans in to ravage her mouth as he continues to move his hips. Every noise she makes, he practically gobbles down, relishing the noises he’s dragging from the darkest of the personalities.

Pausing, he slides out of her and when she makes an angry noise in her throat, he throws his head back and laughs. She turns around to glare at him fully, and he responds by pushing her against the wall so that her back slams into the tile. Grabbing her face in both hands briefly, he kisses her passionately, and before she can react, he lifts one of her legs up by the knee and inserts himself back into her. Her hand goes back around his neck, this time holding on for dear life as her other hand grabs a bicep for support, and he regains his rhythm. With the change in angle, he can feel it the moment he hits _that_ spot inside of her and makes sure that he rubs against her g-spot with each thrust. His lips never leaving hers, he uses the hand not holding her leg up to grab the showerhead off the wall, flip it to the massage setting, and slips the head between their bodies, making sure that the pulsating fall of water hits her clit. She practically screams at the feeling of the heavy pulsating water hitting her clit and him hitting her g-spot, and she pushes her lips so hard against his that he’s fairly certain she’s drawing blood with the force of her teeth. The feeling of her trembling beneath him and the pulsating water has him shuddering and fighting not to come undone, but fuck.

There’s something building inside of him, and he’s not sure he understands. The feeling is unlike anything he’s felt since the acid bath, and though he vaguely recalls a similar feeling from Jack’s life, that remembered feeling doesn’t come close to comparing. Something was bubbling up in him, and he wasn’t sure he liked it, but _fuck_. Fuck. The blood that should be capable of running his brain was currently running a different body part, and he can’t fully think past the feeling of her hot wet lips against his mouth and the slick folds of her cunt tightening around him.

“Harl, I…fuck, I…oh god, baby,” he moans against her mouth, not sure how to finish the thought, and at the sound of his stuttering, she throws her head back and screams his name to the heavens as she shatters underneath him. He’s incapable of doing anything other than following her into oblivion as his hips ram into her over and over. Finally, his body stops pumping into her, and he drops her leg, pulling her body close to his.

He stands there for a minute with his head on her shoulder, trying to come back to reality. He needs the three of them as a cohesive unit, but at the same time, he’s terrified of the three of them unified. They would be a force to be reckoned with, and he’s not sure he’s capable of holding his own next to that.

That unexpected insecurity has him stepping back from her, needing to put space between the two of them.

“Finish up, and we’ll get you home, doll,” he tells her as he walks out of the shower stall and into the main bedroom. As he places her clothes on the bed, he can hear her call his name questioningly from the bathroom, and he quickly throws a pair of slacks on and goes out the door. He’s not running, he’s _not_. He just needs space. It was too much. Whatever the fuck she was doing to him was too much.

xxxxxx

They weren’t sure what had made him grow distant suddenly, but they knew it wasn’t something they had actively done. Even knowing that, Harlequin couldn’t help wonder if she’d done something wrong, if she’d messed this up. She lets Harleen take over and goes deep, letting herself ruminate while the others go through the motions.

They’re disappointed when it’s Johnny who lightly knocks on the bedroom door and hollers in that he’ll be taking her home when she’s ready. She towel dries her hair quickly and throws on the clothes that Joker had left for her before slipping out the door. Before she can go more than a few steps, Johnny is there and offering to show her the way to the car. She searches for Joker as they walk out a back door, but she doesn’t see him anywhere and knows better than to ask.

Really, any step forward, it’s an automatic ten steps back with that man.

On the way back, she’s quiet as she and Harley discuss next steps and how they should deal with the disappearance of Guy. By the time Johnny drops her off, she’s fairly certain they’ve worked up a solid enough plan.

After two days of no contact from Joker or Johnny, her eyes are red-rimmed, and it’s not hard to pretend to be scared and sad when she goes to the local police station to fill out a missing person’s report for Guy. Really, showing a devastated front isn’t hard when she _is_ devastated, even if it’s not for the reasons everyone assumes. She cries when the officers taking her statement ask her questions about Guy, and she explains between sobs that she hasn’t seen him in two days. And while that may not be new, Guy was known to disappear with his mistresses for several days at a time after all, he hadn’t been doing that since the incident at work had put her on temporary leave. They’d been _happy_ , officer, they had! And this time just felt _wrong_ , somehow. She sobbed that she was worried that something bad had happened to him. The officers had written everything down and said that they’d follow up if they found anything, though she knew they’d only be following up to let her know that their searches had come up fruitless, and there was no sign of him. Or maybe they’d come back to her with a body fished out of the river with his head a bloody pulp and so bloated only the ID on him had let them know who it was.

She knew the cops would do their bare minimum to find a missing person. This was Gotham, after all, and one more dead body wasn’t anything new or special.


	5. Poor Johnny

Johnny Frost knew that the doc from Gotham General had needed to die. You didn’t hit a girl, after all. But the destruction that he’d found in the basement after Doc Quinzel had left had almost had _him_ tossing his cookies. Really, the brutality had almost been more than even _Joker’s_ worst.

Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure Joker had ever been that violent while torturing someone. Johnny couldn’t remember a time that he’d had to clean up something as vicious as what had been done to Guy Kopski.

But he supposed the man had deserved it. Wife beaters, especially wife beaters like Mr. Kopski, who didn’t leave visible marks, deserved to die in the most horrific ways possible. So he supposed what Doc Quinzel had done had been warranted.

But the fucking aftermath.

He was coming to realize that he was _really_ going to owe his wife that new house and another kid, what with the way Joker was acting right after Johnny had dropped the Doc off at home.

He’d come back to find the goon table, where the newer henchmen had been playing cards earlier in the night, completely decimated. The table upended, cards and money strewn around the room, and all of the henchmen either shot or stabbed.

Which meant that Joker was about to start a manic episode.

Which he hadn’t had since the _first_ time the Doc had left.

Great.

Just fucking _great_.

Which is exactly what happened. That agitated Joker that had even _Johnny_ nervous and on his toes. That left so many henchmen dead that Johnny had trouble filling the ranks and _keeping_ the ranks filled.

His wife had tried explaining that it was because the Boss didn’t understand emotions and was acting out because they were surfacing. But of _course_ he hadn’t believed her.

At least he hadn’t until Joker began fucking his way through his clubs over the next few weeks. And every broad Johnny brought to him happened to be blonde and as close to the Doc’s build as J could get.

But noooooo, apparently this blonde was too bottle blonde, while this one hadn’t worn high enough heels, or this one’s legs weren’t creamy enough, or _this_ one hadn’t been perky or dark enough.

For _fucks_ sake!

Why could no high be high enough for Joker in this state?

Even the _drugs_ weren’t helping in this state. And he’d tried every combination he could think of… _again_!!

He’s almost _happy_ when he sees the correct high-heeled perky blonde walk through the doors of the club. Who thought he’d be _glad_ to see this destructive force walk back into their lives?

Probably his damn wife, that’s who.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's say it with me now: "Poor, poor sweet Johnny!" His wife has GOT to be cackling in the background!


	6. We Don’t Play with Our Food

She knew she’d finally found him when she saw Johnny at the bar, sipping what looked like soda water. This was the third club she’d been to in as many nights, and she was _exhausted_ by the amount of dancing she’d been doing. Even her feet were beginning to hate the height of her heels, and she’d sworn that she’d wear flats to the next club if this one hadn’t panned out. And she _loved_ heels!!

Thankfully she’d worn a slinky red number tonight that barely covered her bits and bobs and showed off an almost distressing amount of leg. She honestly wasn’t sure she’d be able to bend down if she dropped something!

But if _he_ was here, like she suspected, this dress would be the perfect attention grabber, especially if she was planning on making him at all jealous. And really, that was the aim of this whole thing, wasn’t it? To not only gain his attention, but remind him that if he wanted her, he’d have to work for it a bit?

When she gets to the bar, she can see Johnny nod his head towards her to the barman and mumble something. And as soon as she’s trying to hand over money for her drink, she finds out that she’s pleasantly been put on Johnny’s tab for the night. Or rather, Joker’s. Which means that Johnny has staked a claim on Joker’s behalf. She’s half tempted to send the damn drink back or throw the money into the tip jar but thinks better of it and takes it for the win that it’s meant as. Really, she could use someone in her corner, and if Johnny thought Joker would be staking that claim, all the better.

When she catches Johnny’s eyes, he nods his head to a far corner of the room where she can see a large white booth that’s surrounded by glass on two sides and gold beads on the others. Really, it should be ridiculous looking, but somehow with the lights angled just right, it looks perfect. It _looks_ like the kind of spot you’d find _The Joker_ at. When she stares, she can see Joker past those beads, conducting some sort of business and, downing her second drink, she gets up, nods her thanks at Johnny, and proceeds to the dance floor, trying to find the perfect spot.

Really, it’s not hard to convince several men to dance with her. All she has to do is add a bit of swing to her steps, a bit of hip action as she moves across the dance floor, and she’s surrounded. She uses those bodies to her advantage, and soon she sees Joker standing, no longer paying attention to whoever else is in the booth with him, staring out at her instead.

She pretends not to see him and instead grinds against one of the men surrounding her with her ass, lifting one arm back around his neck. The pose is almost reminiscent of her and J’s first time together, or hell, even the last time they’d had sex. When the idiot puts his hands on Harley’s hips, she _swears_ she can see Joker’s chest heave as if he’s having trouble controlling his breathing, and the smile she gives the other man in front of her is genuine for the first time that evening. She pulls the man in front of her towards her with a hand on his belt buckle and gives him an open-mouthed kiss before pushing him away from her.

Having no idea how much of the barely-there thong she’s about to show, and honestly not caring, she decides to test Joker’s restraint. Giving her hips a bit of an extra wiggle, she bends down to touch her toes, letting the man behind her grind his erection into her ass, and she swears she can feel his hand lightly stroke her bright green underwear before he moves back for a moment. She can feel it the instant the hands on her hips change, and she’s immediately sure that those hands belong to Joker. She feels a thumb stroke her folds through the thin fabric of the thong, and she’s instantaneously wet. It’s like he has a button to her libido, and it’s honestly not fair.

She pushes her ass further into his crotch, pretending she has no idea that the warm body behind her has changed, before dipping down into a squat and sliding back up his front, making sure to rub against the full length of his body. As she grinds her ass against his hips, she puts her arm behind her again, sliding her fingers up his neck and into his hair before letting her eyes close and her head rest against his shoulder. She can feel one hand on her hip slide around to splay across her lower belly while the other rubs at her throat before his fingers trail lightly against her jaw. She can feel in his movements what he wants but is unable to fully show, so she turns her head slightly and captures his lips without ever looking at him.

She can feel his need to claim her in that kiss, but she pulls away, unwilling to give up the game that easily. The hand in his hair momentarily tightens as she tells him, “Next time, you gotta move sugar; it’s no fun if you just stand there.” Letting him go, she gives her ass one more sway before she whispers, unsure if he hears her, “Find me later, and maybe we can have some fun,” before slipping away into the middle of the dance floor.

They repeat this process two more times. Him chasing her, her pretending she has no idea that the man she’s grinding against is actually Joker, and she relishes the fact that he’s willing to chase her in public.

Finally she gives him the prize he so rightly deserves. When he follows her the next time, she uses a move that looks like a squat to turn her body around and looks up at him with her face almost perfectly level with his cock. She can see his chest heaving as he tries to control himself, and it has her giving him a small grin. Running her hands from his knees up to his hips slowly, she continues to slide them up his very open shirt as she slides her body up his. Pausing just past his belly button, she kisses the K in the self-proclaiming tattoo and licks her way up his chest, following the path of her hands. Once she’s standing fully erect in front of him, she kisses across his exposed neck and uses her teeth to scrape against his jugular until she can catch his earlobe in her teeth, pulling lightly. One of his hands reaches around to pull her tightly against him by her ass, his fingers grazing the exposed skin just under her asscheek as the other delves into her riotous curls and pulls her head back so that he can attack her lips with his. She can feel the rings on his fingers digging into her ass, and it only makes her push tighter against him.

It’s as if he’s a dying man and she’s his last meal, the way he kisses her. She slides one hand across his shoulders, grabbing onto the exposed gun holster for support as she runs her other hand through the back of his hair, keeping him as close as she can without literally climbing him. She’s tempted to just jump and wrap her legs around his hips, but that would defeat the whole bloody purpose of making him chase her.

Ripping her lips from his, she turns her head slightly so that she can bite the other earlobe harder than necessary before asking, “Now you pay attention? When you get jealous?” She lifts one leg up so that it locks around his leg, letting her stiletto dig into his calf a bit before continuing. “It’s been _weeks_ and no word, yet you see me with someone else, and _now_ you care?”

She can feel his growl rumble against her chest, and she kisses the space just under his ear before whispering, “Come home with me tonight, J.”

“There’s a suite upstairs,” he says, shaking his head.

She rests the side of her head against his for a moment before leaning back so that he can see her face. She needs him to realize how serious she is when she tells him, “No, my home, my bed” Running her hands against his chest, she gives him a coy smile. “You don’t come, I’ll go to a different club and take someone else home, and you’ll have no way of knowing who it is.” She leans back into him and runs her nose up his carotid, whispering, “Come home with me, baby.”

She can feel it the moment his body gives in to her. His hand on her ass tightens, his nails digging into sensitive flesh, and his body shudders. He pulls her in for a violent kiss, asserting dominance he does not have in this moment with tongue and teeth, and she lets him. She knows she’s won, and she smiles against the onslaught. She digs her heel into his calf just a bit harder for a moment before sliding her leg back to the ground and rubbing her knuckles under the length of the shoulder holster straps.

Grabbing one of her hands, he drags her towards a concealed door, and she can see Johnny get up from his spot at the bar to follow. It’s fascinating watching people part like the Red Sea in front of him as she follows docilely behind him. It takes her a moment to realize that he’s matched his stride to her much shorter one, not forcing her to half run as Guy might have once done, and she smiles at his back. It’s such a small thing, something that would not be noticed by anyone else, yet it spoke volumes about the man that liked to pretend he was dragging her away.

As Johnny drives them to her place, she sits quietly, trying to figure out how she wants this night to go. She hadn’t honestly thought she’d find him and so had not planned ahead. Silly, really, now that she thought about it. She knows this is more than just sex for the both of them, but she’s not sure how to get him to acknowledge that. She’s fairly certain that his inability to admit to having feelings was why he kept running from her. But did it _matter_ if he admitted that he had _feelings_ for her?

She tries to run a hand through her hair, and it’s only then that she realizes that he’s still holding her hand, his thumb running lightly over her knuckles as he stares out his window to the streets of Gotham. She reaches into her bag on the floor and tosses her keys to the front passenger's seat for Johnny, knowing she’s not going to want to deal with them when they get to her place.

Deciding to give up thinking for the moment, she unbuckles her seatbelt and quickly straddles Joker, leaving their one hand connected. If it was easier to communicate through sex with this hard-headed man, why fight against that? She lightly rocks her hips as he swoops in for a kiss, and again she gets the feeling she’s the best thing he’s tasted in weeks, as if he’s been starving. She grinds down against him, using his zipper as friction, and whimpers against his mouth.

She may very well have fucked numerous men over the last several weeks, trying to flush Joker from her system, but nothing had worked. That feeling of fullness, of completeness, when they were together didn’t seem to be replaceable. And really, who could compare to the man in front of her?

Her hand slips into his hair as he continues stroking his tongue against hers, and she feels his hand snake between them to rub against her dripping cunt through her underwear. But it’s not enough. She needs his hands on her, in her. She gently grabs his tongue with her teeth and bites down as she grinds her hips against the hand at her opening, trying for more skin-to-skin contact, but he refuses her. It’s not _her_ fault that this idiot in front of her hadn’t called or texted back, and she’s reluctant to take his punishment this time. She’s unwilling to let him go slow to prove some stupid point.

Separating her hand from his finally, she reaches between them and has his zipper down and his cock out in seconds, too fast for him to stop her. His hips buck into hers as she strokes up and down his length, clearly just as desperate for her touch, and he slides her panties to the side to finally let his fingers enter her. He makes a sound deep in his throat at the feel of her tight wet opening beckoning him in. She can feel the pump of his fingers loosening her tight opening as she moves her hips against his questing fingers, but she needs more than this.

Rising up on her knees, she repositions herself, and he lets his fingers pop out just before she rams down. Now _that_ was what she was looking for, that fullness, that connection. She throws her head back at the feeling of him filling her up and tries not to moan, knowing poor Johnny is only a few feet away. Joker pulls her forward with a hand tangled in her hair to capture her lips while the other slowly travels down her back to her ass. Getting a firm grip with each hand, he sets a brutal rhythm and begins to piston his hips up into her. It’s like he’s trying to plow through her, to some unknown point. She rocks her hips with each thrust, but he seems to enjoy pumping up into her roughly, and she can feel his smile as he eats every sound she makes. She can already feel her inner walls tightening around him, and his thrusts quickly lose their rhythm as he fucks her. One of her hands slips between them and she begins to rub her clit with her index and middle fingers. Crushing her to his chest, he pumps up into her a few more times before his chest rumbles, and she swears she hears ‘Harl’ mumbled against her mouth before his cum fills her up. Her fingers on her clit speed up, and only a moment later she’s falling right along with him, crushing her mouth to his to prevent any noise from escaping. She collapses against him, pressing her forehead to his shoulder as her fingers play with the little hairs at the back of his neck.

Barely a moment later, Johnny is hopping out of the car, telling them he’ll check to make sure everything’s secure inside before slamming his door and disappearing. She does appreciate that he took the long way to her place, though really, you’d think he was desperate to get away from them! She begins giggling at the thought, and the only thing that stops her is Joker pulling her mouth back to his. He uses the moment to rub his hands up and down her thighs before sliding out of her. She makes an unhappy sound at the loss of contact but slips off his lap and pulls her dress down, knowing that if she doesn’t get him in there soon, she’s going to lose the opportunity and he’s going to run. Pulling his face to hers once he’s put himself back to rights, she gives him one more quick kiss before pushing his shoulder to indicate that he needed to exit the vehicle.

He wrinkles his nose and gives her a snarl that she’s sure he means as terrifying but only has her smothering a laugh before he obeys her silent look and exits the vehicle.

Men!


	7. Tipping Over the Edge

He’d felt it the moment she’d entered the club. That odd thing that happened in his stomach that only seemed to happen around her. How his body had known she was near before he’d even seen her, he had no idea. But when he’d looked over and noticed her grinding against some nobody club rat, her arm wrapped around the guy’s neck, he’d had to fight not to leap out of his damn seat. He’d concluded his business as quickly as possible and just stood there for a few minutes watching her body move. He knew she was trying to fuck with him, to draw him near, but he’d taken his time, damn it. He would _not_ be led around by his cock…at least until he was. Even the damn snarl in the car hadn’t instilled any kind of fear in her, and he couldn’t be sure, but he could swear that he’d seen her eyes twinkle with mirth. What the actual _fuck_ was happening?

Maybe he’d try the same snarl out on henchmen later, see if he was losing his touch or if she was the oddity? But not right now. Right now, he was going to drink some water and then fuck her ten ways from Sunday.

He couldn’t seem to get enough of her. Absolutely nothing compared to this slip of a woman in her towering heels and long expanse of thigh, with her brilliant, devious mind.

As soon as they’d both downed a glass of water in her tiny little kitchen, she might as well have been leading him by his damn cock with the way she walked back to the bedroom. The way her ass moved in those sky-high heels, he practically wanted to get down on his knees to follow her.

Where the fuck had _that_ come from? This woman would _not_ have him on his knees. She was no different than any other blonde out there. Except the weeks he’d tried to replace her, and that funny feeling in his stomach, that told him otherwise.

Out of all the women in Gotham, he’d had to choose _that_ night to go to Grin and Bare It, and had to run into _her_. Why couldn’t he have selected one of her bobble-headed friends, instead of her? Because Fate was funny, and it had felt he’d needed the chaos in his life that she would bring, that’s why.

And gods above, watching her climb onto her bed on her hands and knees with those heels still on, showing off that amazingly firm ass, and the warm pink center that was on full display in this position, he can’t find it in himself to argue with Fate. He’d take the chaos gladly if it gave him this.

He pauses her with a hand on her hip before she can get too far onto the bed, and she looks over her shoulder at him. Reverently, he lightly glides a hand across one of those perfect asscheeks before giving her a toothy grin and giving it a resounding whack. Her hips jut forward, and the immediate pink that wells up is an absolutely lovely sight. She makes a slight whimpering sound that has him repeating the motion, the sound echoing through the room. He leans down to kiss the red handprint as her back arches into his touch, and a small mewl escapes her throat.

The _noises_ this woman could make!

Just to see what other noises she might be able to make, he kisses the handprint again before gently biting down as his hand lightly rubs the length of her wet cunt. She makes a little huffing noise and pushes her ass further back, trying to tell him without words what she wants from him. Not willing to comply with her demand – really, she got the quicky she’d wanted in the damn car – he rubs his thumb just barely against her folds. She makes a plaintive little mewl as his thumb barely enters her, still rubbing back and forth, and he smiles against her ass at the new noise.

“Please, Mistah J, _please_. I need you insida me,” she practically moans.

“The car wasn’t enough for you, Harl? Are you truly that insatiable?” He asks as he pulls her by her hips closer to the edge of the bed.

“I could never get enough of you,” she says, shaking her head and pushing her ass back further for him. Really, how she’s kneeling precariously on the edge of the bed, her knees just barely at the edge with her calves dangling, and _still_ able to press her ass further towards him, is a feat he hadn’t known possible.

Running his hands underneath the slinky red number, he begins to scrunch it up her body until it’s above her breasts. He helps her lean up against him as he finishes slipping it over her head, his hands splaying against her belly and between her breasts, resting his forehead on her shoulder for a moment. “No bra, hmmm?” he observes, tweaking a nipple lightly. One hand still tweaking her nipple, rolling the hard little bud between his fingers, his other hand slowly slides from her belly to her clit. He rubs the little nub between thumb and index finger, matching both hands' movements until she cries out. He knows she’s far from done, but that noise, oh that noise, has him preening as only she can make him.

“Do the splits for me, doll,” he whispers against her hair, still rubbing little circles into her clit and nipple. When she looks back at him nervously, he gives her a wide grin and moves his hands back to her belly and sternum. “I won't let you fall, promise.”

He can almost hear the universe zing at that statement, as if it resonates somewhere further down the line. It makes him nervous that he’ll one day fail at that promise. Shaking his head, he returns to the here and now, unwilling to get trapped in the future. He’s here, not there, and that’s where he’ll stay.

Once she’s moved her legs out appropriately, he bends her down at the waist so that she’s lying face down, her legs spread out wide on the edge of the bed. He unbuckles his slacks, and he can see the little shiver that runs down her body in anticipation at the noise. Once he’s kicked his shoes and slacks off, he quickly positions himself at her center and slides in. The feel of her inner walls clenching around him was absolute heaven. He was sure that if he died tomorrow, his afterlife looked like this – Harley spread out wide beneath him, moaning his name, her body welcoming him in.

“J, _please_ ,” is whimpered as her arms spread out above her head, clenching the bedspread for everything she’s worth. Placing his hands on either side of her ass and spreading her wide open, he slowly slides almost all the way out before ramming quickly back in. He loves watching her body accept his hard dick from this angle. Each time he repeats the process, she makes little noises that are half-way between huffs and moans, and he begins to pick up the pace, wanting to see what new noises he can create.

“Let it all out, Harl. Let me hear you,” he huffs between his movements, and it’s like a damn has been let loose. He changes the angle a bit, and as soon as he impales her at that slightly sideways angle, she almost screams in pleasure. She moans loudly with each thrust, and he keeps up the pace, wanting to hear more. Between being able to watch himself slide in and out of her and the noises she’s making, he feels about ready to pop like a damn teenage boy. Slowing his pace, much to her annoyance, he bends over and kisses her shoulder, running his fingertips down her spine as he slowly moves his body in and out of her wet heat.

“Play with yourself, Harl,” he breaths into her skin, needing her to finish before he does.

Her hips lift slightly as one of her hands unclenches from the bedding and slides under herself, and he can feel the movement of her fingers as she twirls them around her clit. The feel of her stroking herself and lightly stroking him on every pass has his pace speeding back up, his hips bucking into hers without the smooth, practiced rhythm, his mouth continuing to kiss and scrape across her shoulders. The moment her walls clench around him and her body goes taut, little breathy noises being torn from her throat as if it’s too much to make the full noise, he thrusts into her as hard and far as he can go.

“Fuck, baby, I need you,” he growls into her skin as he reaches his own climax and collapses onto her.

Two rounds, that close together, he’s not sure he has the strength to move, let alone the mental faculties to think about what the bugger all he’d just said. Fuck, maybe he needed to work on his cardio if this tired him out that badly? He couldn’t remember a fight with the Bad Bat that had ever left him this winded. Or had he just gotten old?

He can feel her legs moving down beside his hips, and he uses the movement to raise up on his forearms and roll over so that his top half is lying next to her on the bed. Fuck, even _that_ was hard at the moment. But she’s crawling up the bed and looking back at him expectantly, and he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in a bed with someone. Hell, who was he joking? His sleep consisted of micro naps, so his bed usually didn’t even get used! The way she was looking at him though, it was clear that she wanted him to follow her up there, to lay down next to her.

She’s under the covers by the time he finds the energy to climb up after her, and he practically drapes his body across her, using her chest as a pillow. Yes, it allows him better access to those perfect nipples, but it also allows him to hear the wet thump of her heartbeat. Her hands are running through his hair soothingly, and he’s almost asleep when he hears it.

The three words that have the potential to ruin everything.

He lays still, having no idea how to deal with the riot that those words have caused. He’d rather she think he was asleep than admit that he’d heard her.

Her hand keeps running through his hair and her heart keeps thumping, and before he knows it, he’s out cold.

xxxxxx

Harleen wakes warm and sweaty only a few hours later, and it takes her a moment before she realizes she’s on her side with Joker draped across her back, one hand splayed across her abdomen, the other wrapped under and around her shoulders, locking her to him. From his time in Arkham, she knew he rarely slept without sleep aids, so to feel his deep breathing was as close to euphoria as she thought she’d ever get. The sex was great, mind-blowing even, but this, right here, was what heaven would be for her – Joker, relaxed enough that he was able to sleep without nightmares.

She’s just falling back to sleep when she feels his breathing hitch and his cock harden, his hand on her abdomen traveling slowly further south. She keeps her breathing even, forcing her body not to react like it wants to, wanting to see what he plans to do. He begins to kiss her shoulders and the back of her neck languidly, while his fingers start to rub her already wet folds before they slowly slide into her. His fingers seem to pause there, barely moving, as if he simply wants to feel the tight heat of her welcoming him in. His hand on her shoulder slides incrementally down to massage her breast, his fingertips tickling over her nipples. Reaching a hand behind her slowly, she plays with his erection unhurriedly, not wanting to ruin this slow, sleepy sexy they seem to be building towards, but knowing that she needs more than just his fingers inside of her.

She needs that connection with him she knows comes with his cock inside of her. If this was the only way he knew how to communicate, then so be it.

He lines himself up with her entrance and slowly slides into her, pushing past her body’s natural tightness. A moan slips past her clenched teeth at the feel of him filling her up. It’s as if her body was meant for him, waiting for him, to feel complete. She moves her hand from between them to grab onto his hip, as if it will anchor her, and turns her upper body slightly so that she can see his face as he slowly moves within her.

She can tell he’s still half asleep, his eyes droopy and his mouth relaxed, and it’s that sight that has her moaning again. That he’s willing to let his guard down enough not only to sleep but to stay half-asleep as he fucks her is a sight she thought she’d never see.

He leans in, and turning her face toward him, he captures her lips with his, languidly stroking his tongue against hers. It’s almost as if he’s matching the slow thrust of his cock to his tongue’s movements, and her hand on his hip tightens at the feeling of being full in two openings. She rolls her hips slightly with each thrust and reaches a hand down to slowly circle her clit, rubbing against his length with each rotation.

“Harl,” escapes his lips as his fingers pinch her nipple, and his thrusts pick up incrementally. Lifting her leg up, she wraps it around his hip, grabbing onto her own ankle to keep it in place, wanting to change the position but unwilling to fully move out of his embrace. Using the hand holding her face to his, he grabs her ankle for her and breathlessly begs her to play with herself.

Fuck, the sound of that voice gravely with sleep, begging her for something. She shudders at the sound and almost screams when he hits her g-spot in this new position. His hips pick up momentum, finally beginning to slam into her like she needs, his tongue continuing to match the movements of his cock. She’s making little huffing noises into his mouth with each thrust until finally she throws her head back and moans his name.

She can feel his mouth against her shoulder, breathing her name like a prayer, and she’s so close to slipping over the edge she could almost cry.

Just a little further. Just a smidge, and she’ll tip right over the edge. “Oh god, please,” she moans to the heavens, to him, to Saint Genesius, the patron saint of clowns.

“Fuck, baby, the world is clearer when you’re near me,” he moans into her skin, and it sends her racing, tumbling, hurtling head-long into the abyss that is ecstasy. She screams his name over and over as he continues to pound his hips into hers until his relentless rhythm finally breaks, and he fills her to the hilt. He hollers her name into her skin, biting the junction of her shoulder and neck as if needing to keep his mouth busy, and hurtles along behind her into the stars. She can feel the little trickle of blood from the broken skin under his teeth, and as he hurtles, she ascends again. She’s practically sobbing at the feeling of the second orgasm following so closely after the first, and she feels as if she’s separated from her body, unable to fully contain the pleasure he’s driven into her.

Her body can’t stop trembling, little aftershocks sending pleasure racing through her body again and again. Every time she shudders, she can feel his still hard cock pump incrementally into her, as if his body is trying to keep her on that precipice, and it’s almost too much.

This man that surrounds her, fills her body and soul, is almost too much to bear in this moment.

She separates her lower body from his, and as she lowers her leg, she turns in his arms so that she’s facing him. His mouth descends on hers hungrily, and she lazily runs her hands through his hair and across his shoulders and back. Even with the fog of sleep closing back in around them, she needs him closer still. Lifting her leg up, she wraps it around his hip, using the arch of her foot to pull his lower body towards hers. It’s as if she needs every inch of them touching before she’s able to fully relax. Even with the feel of his cum still inside of her, she needs proof that he’s here, that he’s with her, before she can relax. Finally finding the connection she needs, she lowers her head to the crook of his neck and breathes deeply, nuzzling her nose against his heart vein as his hand rubs up and down her back.

As she falls into sleep, she has no idea that she mumbles her need, and her love, for him into his skin.


	8. She’s a Bad Bitch

He’d been falling back into that haze of sleep as her leg locked around his hip when he’d heard _those_ words again. They weren’t the first time she’d said them. Fuck, this wasn’t even the _second_ time! He continues to rub his hand up and down her back, trying to ignore the words she seems to mumble in her sleep, but it’s not long before his need to get up and move has his skin itching.

This woman, she was like a bad penny. _No_ , he thinks, shaking his head. She was like a black hole, and he couldn’t seem to rip himself away from her gravitational pull. But did he really _want_ to? Would he lose everything about himself if he let her keep pulling him in? Would he lose that sociopathic bent he’d had since he’d crawled out of the ACE chemical bath?

He would lose everything, he was sure of it, and he needed to get the fuck out of this bed. He needed to separate himself from her in some permanent, irrevocable way. But she kept dragging him back in every time he thought he’d rid himself of the itch for her. Because that itch was never really gone, was it?

It’s as if she can feel him mentally pulling away from her, as her leg tightens around him and her hand slides into his hair, her other sliding under him to his back.

But he can feel his skin itching, and his need to move intensifies until he wants to scream. He slowly begins the extraction process as he gently lowers her leg down and pulls the pillow from under his head, putting it between them. He knows he’s lying to himself when he thinks that he’s only setting the pillow there so that she’s less likely to follow him right away. Damn this woman for making him give a shit about anything other than his own comfort.

As soon as he’s able to extricate himself and is satisfied that she’s still asleep, he sends a quick text to make sure that Johnny has brought his Vaydor G35 around and throws his clothing back on. He only bothers buttoning his shirt half the way up before throwing his shoulder holster and jacket on and sliding into his shoes. He’s tucking his shirt in as he walks out the front door, locks it, and accepts the keys from Johnny for his beautifully built out kit car.

Racing away as fast as he can, he plows through the streets of Gotham, running red lights and barely skating past near-misses, desperate for the clarity the adrenalin at these speeds gives him. Thankfully there aren’t many cars on the road this far into the night, but there’s always the promise of the Battish Bastard making an appearance with Joker out flaunting his presence, and that only seems to ratchet up the adrenalin another notch, making him go faster. He hears the ping of his phone in his jacket pocket but ignores it, a decision he’ll sorely regret later. He may want adrenalin, but he doesn’t need the death that will surely follow if he bothered reading the damn thing. And if it were urgent, Johnny knew to call.

Looking towards his side mirror, he almost does a double-take at the blonde hair whipping in the wind next to him. _Really?!_ Sighing, he tries to hide her from his sight and steps on the gas pedal, attempting to outrun her and the feelings that the sight of her seemed to bring roaring back to the surface. He can almost hear her growl over the wind and through the window and can’t help the happy sigh that escapes his lips when she pulls past him.

Maybe he’d be lucky and she’d get the damn hint? Really, he needed her off that damn bike without a helmet, and at these speeds, her hair whipping around her face was giving him heart palpitations. He can see the line of oncoming traffic getting closer and closer as the seconds tick by, and he swears he feels his heart stop as she turns the bike and gets on top of it, letting it slide to its natural stop. When she walks away from the motorcycle a few steps, he has a split second where he wonders if he should just run her the fuck over and finish it. It would solve everything, it really would. Though with her death would come the death of his beloved car. But he knows he’s incapable of killing her. It’s why he ran in the first place.

Rolling his eyes at himself, he slams on the brakes as hard as he’s able, baring his teeth at both the situation and the screech of his tires. He heaves a sigh when the car comes to a stop just in front of her, not knowing what deity to thank that his brake pads are in perfect working order. Probably Johnny, that’s who. Deciding to fall back on _The Joker_ persona he rarely needs when he’s with her (it’s safer to fall back to it, after all), he gives her a toothy grin. He can almost see her chest heaving in her anger, and when she slams her hands down on the hood of his car screaming about how he’s not leaving her, he mumbles, “You, you, you’re a little pain in the ass.”

It takes him a second to honestly decide if he _wants_ to go out there with her in this state, knowing it could just as easily be Harlequin that greets him as Harleen. Finally stepping from the car, he does a little twirl before stepping towards the raging female. He can see the semi pulling up behind him but ignores it for the more immediate threat in front of him.

“I have done everything you said: every test, every trial, every initiation. I have proved I love you. Just accept it,” she rages, stepping towards him and pointing her finger at him emphatically. He can see how frustrated she is, but really, he thought she’d sleep longer before realizing he was gone, and he’d have more time to put distance between them.

Putting his hands up in a placating gesture, he grumbles, “Got it, got it, got it.” Swaying on his feet in front of her, he closes his eyes for a moment to remind himself of what he’s been trying to tell himself since he first set eyes on her at the strip club. He has to show her that he is not the man she wants. “I…am not someone who is… _loved_ ,” he tells her, clapping his hands once in front of her face and giving her jazz hands. “I am an idea. A state of mind.” Ignoring the honk from the semi now parked behind his car, because really, the asshole could have just gone around, but nooooo, he’d felt the need to stop behind Joker’s car. Biggest mistake of this fuckwad’s life. But later, he’d deal with that later. Circling around her, he ignores the tear tracks running down her cheeks as he tells her, “I execute my will _a_ ccording to _my_ plan, and you, Doc _tor_ , are not part of my pl _an_.”

Grabbing his face, she tries to pull him close, practically growling when she tells him, “Just let me in. I promise…” But he can’t let her finish, not while connected to her. He can already feel her getting back under his skin, and he takes a few steps away from her, running his hands through his hair as she tries to continue. “Let me in! I promise I won’t hurt you!”

He can’t help the mildly manic laugh that escapes him as he turns and grins at her. “Oh, promise? Promise?”

That’s when the idiot trucker decides to stop his incessant honking and get out of the car. Really, you’d think he’d notice the personalized license plate and the damn joker symbols all over the car and keep going. Joker is cackling at the whole situation when the trucker begins yelling, “Hey, dickface! Mind screaming at your bitch somewhere else?”

It’s then that he feels Harley’s hand reach into his suit jacket to the gun underneath, and before he can blink, she’s shot the trucker dead, a beautiful hold in the man’s head. Looking down at the idiot, he tells the corpse, “I was gonna say ‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’” before turning back to Harley.

When he faces her, he has a moment of doubt. He was fairly certain he was dealing with Harley rather than the others, but the anger and hurt in her eyes says there may be a decent amount of Harlequin popping up as well. He stares at her seriously for a moment, the gun pressed to his forehead, before realizing that life was but a joke, and if she was able to kill him, she’d have one up on him. He was, after all, incapable of killing her, it seemed.

“Don’t h _u_ rt me, I’ll be your _friend_ ,” he tells her, smiling his biggest, most idiotic Joker smile before humming. When the gun stays pressed against his forehead, and her eyes go slightly darker, he looks at her seriously, spreading his hands out wide, before telling her over and over again to “do it.” One of them needed to end this cycle, and if it wasn’t him, maybe he could goad Harlequin into doing it.

He can see the frown lines in her forehead as she asks, “My heart scares you, and a gun doesn’t?”

After all that time in Arkham together, and the various times they’d been together outside of the asylum, she still didn’t truly get it, did she? He was _terrified_ of his feelings for this slip of a woman. He’d rather face death, even a useless death on this strip of road at Harley’s hand, than deal with those feelings. Because this woman, this witch, could get him to do anything she damn well pleased with the right look. He had to fight with everything he had not to just give in to her. He tries goading her one more time, growling out angrily, “DO IT,” giving her the second she needs to pull the trigger. But finally, he realizes that she’s just as incapable of ending this damn cycle as he is, and he snatches the gun from her hand with a flourish, laughing at the whole damn thing.

Putting the gun to his temple for a moment, contemplating the thought, he laughs once more and holsters the weapon. “God, if you weren’t so _crazy_ , I’d think you were ins _ane_ ,” he tells her, though which of them he’s talking about, he’s not sure. “Go. Away,” he growls, practically begging at this point.

He set her free from her fiancé so that she could find something permanent and healthy. His life was a series of hideouts, running from the Bat Family and gangster bullshit. It was not something that this woman should be part of. Maybe with time, she’d be able to heal enough that her personalities would coalesce, but there would be no healing with him. He _knows_ he’s unhealthy for her. Hell, _she_ was unhealthy for _him_!

But she won’t go, because heaven _forbid_ she listen!

She sighs, running her hands through her own hair before growling and stalking the few feet towards him. Grabbing his face between her hands before he can dance out of her reach, she looks him in the eye as she whispers, “No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't watch this and the vat scene ten million times to try to get it right, really, I didn't! The rude things you say to me! ;-D


	9. A Chemical Wedding

She can still feel it, that terror that she’d lost him, even as he drives them away from the highway and the dead trucker. She’d woken the moment he’d closed the door, but it had taken her minutes to realize what had happened. Minutes she hadn’t had. She’d dressed as quickly as she could, but when she couldn’t find the damn motorcycle helmet in the garage, she’d said fuck it and driven off without one. They _wouldn’t_ backtrack this time, they wouldn’t. And no matter how hard he’d tried to push her away on that highway, or how devastating some of what he’d said had been, she’d been unwilling to let him go.

Not this time.

But a small kernel of that terror still lived in her soul, and likely always would. She knew he was a sociopath where the rest of the world was concerned, but with her…with her…fuck, she didn’t know. Putting her head against the window, pretending to stare out at the city passing them by, she tries to think through next steps.

He’d said that he was taking her to where he was born. But which birth? His natural birth, or the birth of _The Joker_?

As they pull up outside of ACE Chemicals, she knows that it’s the birth of _The Joker_ that he’d been talking about. His true birth, she supposes – the place that had created the man sitting next to her.

He leads her up to the ridiculously high platform above the rather terrifying vats of bubbling liquid in stony silence, and she begins wondering if his plan is to simply throw her over the edge. It _would_ be a great way to get rid of her body, she supposes.

“You know, I fell from this very platform into the vats below once upon a time. I honestly can’t recall what happened. Sometimes I remember it as a fight between goons that threw me into the vat, while other times, it was a fight with the Bat himself that sent me over the edge. I suppose if I have to have a past, I prefer it to be multiple _choice_ ,” he tells her, cackling.

She stands at the very edge, staring down at the bubbling liquid, and wonders what’s in the vats and what strength of will it would take to survive something like that. Standing behind her, Joker says, “Question,” as he runs his knuckles down her arm. She turns towards him expectantly as he asks, “Would you die for me?”

It takes her a moment to work through the ramifications of that question before throwing caution to the wind and answering simply, “Yes.”

“That’s too easy,” he tells her, looking off into the middle distance for a moment before he comes to some conclusion. “Would you…” he starts, but stalls out for a moment, as if unsure of asking his next question. “Would you _live_ for me?” he asks her, in all seriousness, no trace of the Joker persona he carries around him like a blankie present.

She looks at him without blinking as she yet again answers him simply, “Yes.”

“Careful,” he tells her, pointing a finger at her, trying to impress upon her the importance of what’s happening in this moment. With a bit of his flair back, he explains, “Do not say this oath thought _les_ sly.”

Grabbing her face, he covers her mouth with his hand, showing the false grin tattooed on his hand to the world as if it were her own. “Desire becomes surrender. Surrender bec _omes_ POWER,” he tells her, letting his hand slide down her face.

“Do you want this” he purrs, sliding his index finger down her mouth, pulling gently at her plump lower lip. What she wouldn’t do to simply bite down on that damn finger.

With no hesitation, she vehemently tells him, “I do.”

“Say it,” he tells her, throwing his head back so that she can see the pulse in his neck jumping wildly, betraying the calm outward exterior. “Say it. Say it,” he repeats. When she continues to look at him silently, he places a hand under her chin, whispering, “Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty…”

Finally, understanding dawns and she whispers, “Please.”

As he hums and beams at her, telling her that she’s “so…good,” she can’t help the small worry line that appears on her forehead. She finally understands why they’re here, and he was right, she shouldn’t have made her oath thoughtlessly. And she hadn’t, not really. She loved this insane clown, and if this was the final proof that he needed, then so be it.

She can feel him stepping away as she looks down at the vat far, far below her, before turning back to him with a silent question in her eyes. He shrugs his shoulders as if to say, ‘fuck if I know what I want,’ and motions that it’s her choice. She can tell he doesn’t think she’ll jump, not really. Who would ever jump for him, after all? Dying was easy; all creatures die. But choosing to live, now that was the hard part. And choosing to live for someone else, rather than just oneself, was the greatest sacrifice of all, wasn’t it?

Even as she spreads her arms out wide, she can tell he still doesn’t believe her. Really, if the fall or the liquid kill her, it’s not a terrible thing, now is it? Her soul would be dead without him anyways. As Mr. Freeze had told her once upon a time, she’d found her purpose, and the world would fade away without him until there was only whiteness and death. What was the point of living with that? Wouldn’t it be better to take this, her final, leap of faith, and pray she came out the other side?

Realizing that, she takes a step back and lets herself fall, her last sight of him before she closes her eyes and surrenders to gravity.

The liquid burns the instant she dunks down, and the force of the fall forces her to gasp, letting the liquid into her lungs to spread through her internal organs. She’s burning, and she’s screaming, and she can’t find the way up because she can’t fucking _swim,_ until she’s finally sucked in too much of the caustic liquid, and she feels her body beginning to slow.

Was this what death felt like? Would there be an afterlife? Had she been good enough that whatever god there might be would let her have her peace?

xxxxxx

He stands on the edge of the platform, still hardly believing that she’d just jumped. He hadn’t really planned on her going into the liquid; he’d just wanted to see her think about it and give up. He’d been _sure_ she’d give up this ridiculous notion of love if she’d seen where he’d been born, and he’d question her need for him.

But she’d fucking _jumped_. And she still hadn’t come up for air like she should have. He sighs, realizing he’d likely just killed the only decent thing in his world, before turning and walking towards the stairs. He gets halfway there before he throws his head back, growling at the ceiling, realizing that he’s unwilling to let her die. He sends a quick text to Johnny before throwing off his jacket and jumping from the platform after her.

Diving down, he kicks and searches with his hands (really, he liked his eyeballs and was unwilling to risk them to the caustic liquid in the vat) and finally finds her stationary at the bottom. Pulling her up, he treads water as he looks down on her very stationary form, marveling at the red and blue swirls around them. Had she not been willing to live for him after all?

Pulling her closer to him, he leans down and breathes air into her lungs, praying that it will be enough. That she’ll be like a damn Disney princess, and his kiss will wake the sleeping princess, showing that she was not dead at all, just waiting.

And breathe, she does. She sucks in her first lungful of air, and her eyes pop open. He feels like he has a baby bird in his hands, and her first sight is of him, bonding them for all eternity in some unholy matrimony. He leans down to kiss her, finalizing that oath, that promise, that bond, and her hand tangles in his hair as she kisses him vigorously back. She clings to him as she shoves her tongue down his throat, as if trying to steal the very air from his lungs, and he couldn’t be happier to give it to her.

Throwing his head back, he cackles at the ceiling, and she laughs right along with him as if understanding a joke even he doesn’t know the punchline to.

When he finally gets them out of the vat and outside, she grabs his arm and points to the moon, asking if he sees the bunny within the crevices before doubling over cackling. Fuck, how long had she been under without air to the brain for? It couldn’t have been more than two or three minutes at max? Not enough to actively cause brain damage, but she’s still cackling and sing-songing ‘bunny’ to the whole damn town, skipping down the alley. It’s as if she has no idea that the majority of both of their clothes have sloughed off in the chemical solution, and as she skips, her breasts bounce up and down.

Fuck, now was _not_ the time to be thinking about sex. Maybe a quicky against the wall to calm her down? No. No! Though the dunk in the liquid hadn’t fucked with him like it once had, he’s still a bit more out of it than he’d like, and he’s happy he arranged for a pickup before jumping after her.

Had he been this loopy when he’d first stepped out of the primordial ooze? He can’t remember, and unfortunately (fortunately?), there’s no one left to ask who would know.

Thankfully, it’s at that moment that Johnny chooses to pull the huge black car around the corner and into the alley, and he couldn’t be happier. He pushes Harley into the backseat and quickly covers her with the robe that Johnny throws into the back without looking.

As she looks at him, he can see the personalities flit across her eyes, but they look less separate than they did before, somehow. He can only hope that her dive into the liquid brought a small bit of cohesiveness to her soul.

Running his hands over her bleached hair and skin, he can’t help but marvel at this creature in front of him. She’d gone into the vat as Harleen Quinzel and had come out something else entirely. When he looks at her seriously and asks if she knows who she is, she cocks her head and looks at him as if _he_ has potential brain damage.

“Harley Quinn, of course. And you look like you’re covered in pudin’, Mistah J,” she tells him, giggling.

When he had Harley, no one else really mattered much. Why would they? When you’ve got her, what’s the rest of the world? It’s just a game. And now it was a game for two.

_finito_

**Author's Note:**

> Whew! I can't believe this huge arc is finished! Though the series is by no means done (though I honestly have NO idea what comes next!), the rest will take a bit longer to get to you as new job fun makes writing harder!
> 
> As always, please let me know what you thought - kudos and comments go a long way!  
> Any kind of feedback is appreciated, even if it's not great! You can always send me an email as well if you're nervous about posting here!


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